


Evil Comes the Night

by Kim Gasper (mickeym)



Category: The Mummy Series (1999 2001 2008)
Genre: Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-07
Updated: 1999-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/Kim%20Gasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil can invade men's dreams, and take their bodies, as well as their souls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evil Comes the Night

Night in the desert with the sky black as death, dotted with the lights of a million stars. A ragged fringe of purple and mauve met the black on the horizon, attesting to the fading day. A soft, warm wind whispered over the land, reshaping the desert landscape, sculpting and forming new patterns in the sand.

A small fire flickered cheerfully, its flames licking at the wood, burning bright yellow and orange, and a darker red near the base, where coals sizzled and spit. Three bedrolls formed a rough circle around the fire, and just beyond that, still within the safe light of the flames, was a rough but efficient pen of sticks and string, holding a dozen horses, currently being fed and watered.

The horses whickered softly at the man's passage, their breath warm and comfortably familiar after the touch from the icy hands of evil earlier. Ardeth patted each head, rubbing muzzles and scratching at forelocks as he went. Ten men into the creature's lair. His comrades, his friends, his brethren. Men he'd played with, grown up with, and fought with. Sworn to uphold the Med-jai code with. Ten men, and only himself and two others had emerged--and that only for the grace of Allah, most likely.

The creature was gone. Headed toward Cairo and the destruction of all Egypt, if not stopped. He'd have to enlist outside help; there was no way the Med-jai alone could stop it now.

A low growl rumbled from his throat and Ardeth forced himself to loosen his jaw, breathe slowly and calmly when the horses nickered and shifted nervously away from him. Stupid, stupid foreigners! Unleashing something that had the power to destroy them all--and all on a whim for adventure and treasure. Allah curse them all, send them back to their foreign lands and away from his. Life was complicated enough without foreigners adding to it.

He snorted and stepped back from the tethered animals; they'd all be lucky to have a life to be complicated, shortly. The creature must be stopped before Anck-su-namun could be resurrected. With her by his side he'd be utterly invincible. At least while he was still regenerating, and before he could bring her back, there was still a glimmer of a chance--if only that.

Ardeth shivered as those icy fingers briefly touched his soul again. He'd sworn an oath to the Med-jai when he'd reached manhood, and he wouldn't be forsworn. But the evil that emanated from the risen creature was enough to chill him for all eternity, in this life and the ones beyond.

Imhotep. Evil. The words were synonymous now. And both must be stopped. He was Med-jai. He was the leader. It was his responsibility, and he would see it was done.

* * *

Neb and Shen were already seated on their bedding, eating camp rations. Ardeth shook his head at the offer of flatbread. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something, brother." Shen took a drink from the waterbag, then held it out, his eyes daring Ardeth to refuse even that. Leader or no, Shen was his brother by birth and would allow no argument against the basic necessities of life. Food he could do without for a day or so; water was an essential.

"I'll eat later." The water was cool going down his throat, spreading through him. His body soaked it in greedily, urging him to drink again, to slake the thirst he hadn't been aware of. Ardeth heard Shen's snort of disgust but ignored him, lifting the waterbag again to drink deeply.

"You need your strength to fight, Ardeth."

"I'll rest, then eat in the morning." He passed the bag to Neb, sharing a brief smile at Shen's clucking. "You both need rest as well, to ensure the bodies of our fallen are returned for proper burial."

"Aye, we will." Neb hefted the waterbag, drank deeply, then lowered it to nod toward the horses. "Should one of us guard, tonight?"

"No. The creature is gone from here for the moment, and any tribes in the area will sense the evil, will stay close to their camps. We're safe enough here." Ardeth considered his words and snorted bitterly. Safe. They'd none of them be safe again, until Imhotep was defeated and safely entombed once more. He shifted, settling himself back on the blankets. "Get some sleep, my brothers. Come sunrise we must be on our way."

The other two muttered muted agreement, rustling about on their bedding until they were comfortable. Ardeth closed his eyes, but it was difficult to do even that, much less sleep, with the aura of evil that surrounded them. He fidgeted against the rough cotton cloth, the fibers scratching him gently, familiarly. Everything in the desert night was tense, nervous, understanding the darkness rising up to swallow them all. He shivered in the warmth, feeling that prickling of cold again even as sleep reached out for him, took him into its embrace.

* * *

Heat slithered over him, dark and suffocating, drawing him into himself. Wet followed the heat, spatters of it across his body, over the sensitive hollow of his throat, pausing at his nipples, moving down to his belly. A chill sensation followed the heat, creeping over him gradually even as the heat suffused him again. Ardeth opened his eyes slowly, struggling against something he could sense but not feel, needing to look, to see what was happening to him.

Fear blazed strong within him when his vision focused. He was naked, his robes and weapons gone. The camp was gone. The safety of fire, of comrades was gone. He was alone...no, not alone. Evil was his companion here; the sole other occupant of this place.

This...creature...didn't look like the evil he'd tracked in the catacombs beneath Hamunaptra. This was a tall, beautifully proportioned man. Broad shoulders, wide, heavy chest tapering into strong belly and iron thighs. His head was shaven, just the hint of stubble, just enough to highlight intense, smoldering dark eyes that glittered at him with amusement. A strong face with wide, full mouth; with beautiful, pouty lips that curled in a half-smile now, though it wasn't out of cheerfulness.

The air around him was rank with malevolence; it alone held him fast against the ground, as there were no other restraints on him. Ardeth pushed against the corruption holding him, his breath coming quick and fast as he struggled, unable to break free. He stared up, dread racing through him as he realized who this was.

Evil incarnate.

Imhotep.

Golden skin and scorching dark eyes filled his vision and Ardeth shuddered, groaning miserably when a hot, hot mouth covered his. A moist tongue teased at the corners of his lips, tasting him, making desire race through him, coaxing quiescent flesh to life. The kiss went on and on, stealing breath from his lungs, pouring liquid fire into his body in place of his blood. His mind shrieked outrage while his body screamed for more, and Ardeth whimpered into Imhotep's mouth in horror when he realized he'd raised his hands to cup warm, strong shoulders, to draw the broad chest closer.

Imhotep knelt over his legs, fingers moving, drawing intricate patterns on his ribs, fingernails scratching lightly, stinging and burning where they touched him. Evil burned in the dark eyes, evil that stared at him, followed each small movement of his with hunger.

"Why do you hunt me, little man?" One finger touched his chest, sensation arcing outward, wriggling through him. "Know you not that my coming was foretold?"

"It is my sworn duty...to see you dead again." He gritted his teeth against the touch of that single finger, wanting to wake himself, knowing this had to be a dream because it couldn't be reality--the creature couldn't regenerate that quickly--could he?

Imhotep laughed and the sound washed through Ardeth, cutting him with blades as sharp as the sword he carried, arousal stirring within him along with the fear, leaving him aching for more even as he wanted an escape.

"You can't kill me," the figure over him boomed, his voice loud as thunder, then soft as the wind. "I am everything, everywhere. I am power and life and dark and death. I am all you fear and all you desire."

"No!" Ardeth struggled under the tall figure, moaning when two fingers stroked his aching nipples, biting down harshly on his lip to cut the sound off. "No..."

"Yes." Gentle touches to his nipples, teasing the sensitive buds into furling tightly, high and tight on his chest. A rougher touch, pulling at one bud, drew a groaning cry from the Med-jai. "You fear me...you hate me...and you want this from me as you've wanted nothing else."

The taste of blood in his mouth was bitter, strong, and Ardeth swallowed against it, using it to cut through the seductive sound of Imhotep's voice rolling through his head. This was pure evil, touching him, invading his thoughts and his body. Pure evil taking him, using him. He shuddered under the weight of the amused eyes watching him.

"I don't want anything from you, except your death."

"You lie," the creature returned pleasantly, his fingers dancing lightly over Ardeth's ribs, moving downward to dip into his navel. The Med-jai squirmed and closed his eyes, trying to remember this was something to be hated, feared, destroyed. Not something that could or would give him pleasure. Imhotep's sole purpose here was his humiliation. "You want me to touch you until the burning within your body and your blood overwhelms any other thought in your mind; until you can no longer think, but only feel. You want to feel me hard and strong within you, taking you like a man takes a maiden. You want to submit to me, don't you, warrior?"

Strong fingers stroked through the dark curls at his groin, cupping and fondling his growing length and the sacs beneath, then brushed against the sensitive skin of his thighs. It was on the tip of his tongue to say yes, to nod, to beg for that--

"No!" Ardeth spat the word into Imhotep's face, shuddering with revulsion even as heat crept through his body. Imhotep smirked at him and wiped his face, then lowered his head, mouth grazing Ardeth's belly, just below his navel. Hot, moist breath rushed over him, teasing him, sending his mind spiraling. If he closed his eyes, if he didn't listen to the whisper of evil in his mind, he could feel the desire growing every time his heart beat. Imhotep whispered something against his belly and the fires within him leapt again as full, sensuous lips caressed, teased, stroked.

Taken. No choice in the matter; if he struggled and screamed 'no', it didn't matter; there was no other recourse. Taken. Feeling the hard strength of that body covering his, that hot mouth scorching his, tongue demanding obeisance. He shifted, his body aching and needy, his cock filling, rising hot and heavy before him. The words were whispered again, teeth touching, scraping, a hot tongue following, to soothe the slight sting.

_Mine._

_Mine, forever._

The voice spoke in his mind this time...or was it a whisper? It was all around him, slipping into his ears, into his head, filling him up, claiming him as he wanted--

Allah help him, NO! He twisted violently under Imhotep, wishing for his sword, a gun, anything to rid himself and the world of this creature, this walking corruption.

"Do not try to resist. You cannot. I am more powerful than you can ever fathom." The words were thick, guttural; the language of the ancients. Ardeth shook at the caresses that came with the words. Imhotep's power over him was obvious in the desire and need coursing through him now; in the way he shifted minutely, at once trying to move away while still moving closer, spreading his legs further for the light caresses that sent fire licking through his belly.

"Please...I don't want this." All he could manage was a whisper, with the burn of humiliation at begging and the heat of arousal making his tongue dry. His throat felt hot and tight, swollen closed against any other words of surcease. He was a warrior, a Med-jai. He could bear up under this seductive torture. It was just touches, evil in the guise of pleasure.

_Are you certain? _The voice inside his mind whispered again. Loud and soft at once, with shades of seduction, of hunger, of power humming within. _Perhaps it's more than that; perhaps you want this, warrior._

"Get out of my mind!" Ardeth threw his body against the invisible bonds, against Imhotep's spells. Violation of his body he could tolerate. Violation of his mind was something different, something he could not bear.

"Ahh, but that is where this all began, Med-jai. Inside your mind, born of need and hunger and your fear of me. And you do fear me, do you not?" Fingers teased and pinched at his thighs, pressing them widely apart, baring that most private part of his body to those burning eyes.

"I fear you, because of what you are, because I fear all that is evil, priest." Harder to speak now, with his mind divided within itself, hungering for those dark, forbidden caresses while screaming outrage at the violation taking place.

"As well you should. Evil is merely another word for power. But I am not here for your fear; I am here for your soul." Imhotep's fingertips brushed the small, hidden pucker, his smile widening, deepening. He shifted closer, drawing Ardeth's thighs up onto his own, holding his legs open wide for soft touches and probes.

"You will not have it." Ardeth whimpered softly at caresses, at his proximity to the hard, hot body. Imhotep was hard, fully erect beneath the ragged robes and cloth he wore. Each time he leaned in to rub a single finger over the burning entrance to Ardeth's body the warrior could feel the power in that hard body.

"I already do," Imhotep countered, pressing harder against the resisting muscle, breaching Ardeth's body. He groaned, arching upward against the pressure, the pain of dry, unwanted entry.

"No! Nonono..."

"Yes, warrior." Imhotep withdrew his finger, spat onto it, and rubbed again. Ardeth grunted at the second invasion, his voice rising in a wordless plea when Imhotep's lips moved over his belly as the finger thrust deeper, further into his aching body. "You want this. No matter what your mind says, what words your mouth makes, your body knows what it wants. You hunger to feel me, do you not?"

"I--" If he said the words, admitted to the hunger tearing through him, he would be lost. His soul would be forfeit, his honor forsworn. Ardeth closed his eyes, shaking his head mutely, unwilling to say yes, unable to say no.

"No matter. I can see in your eyes, see how your body responds." Imhotep whispered those words against his belly again, the words of possession, his tongue licking at the small trail of dark hair, at the nest of thick black curls, at the base of his erection. Ardeth caught his breath when the tongue trailed up his length, pausing to tease him by prodding and poking at the small slit at the top. He tensed, then groaned when Imhotep's mouth opened, sliding down to take him all the way in, into glorious wet heat. Allah, it was like being enclosed in a woman's heat, riding deep inside her body. Hot and wet, so slick, and his tongue...Imhotep rubbed it against the underside of his cock each time it slid from the priest's mouth until Ardeth was certain he could feel the rasp of it all the way through him, working in time with his thudding, pounding heart.

The penetrating finger slid out of him, leaving him feeling empty, aching. Two fingers entered in their place, pushing roughly past the tight barrier, making his body burn with the unaccustomed stretching.

Ardeth licked his lips, his eyes closed, head back, neck arched in subjugation. "Please..." The whisper echoed in his ears, mocking him. Was he pleading for a stop, or for more? He wasn't even certain any longer. He didn't want this, he feared losing his soul to this evil, this caricature of a man, but he could no more stop his body from responding now than he could stop breathing.

"Yes...yes. You want it. Beg for it, warrior. Ask me for what you need, what you long for." Imhotep sounded breathless and Ardeth shuddered at the thought of ~his~ arousal. There was a shifting and the faint scratching of cloth, then Imhotep's body, hot and naked, pressing against his.

Allah help him, it felt so good! The hard, heavy body holding him down, pressing his body into the heat of the desert sand; the full, tempting mouth biting at his neck, tongue stroking relentlessly at his pulse, at the tender spots beneath his jaw, behind his ear. Ardeth arched upward involuntarily, seeking to grind his throbbing cock against ~something~, anything. A low, wicked laugh echoed in his ear, rippled along his spine, then Imhotep's tongue stroked where the sound had gone, teasing the sensitive canal with wet heat and hotter words, whispered promises of glorious enslavement, of pleasure so intense it would bind them together forever.

"No...please, no..." He choked the words out, biting back the sob that wanted to go with them. "Take...take my body...leave me my soul...please..." The humiliation of begging, for anything, made him gag, made his tongue burn with the bitter taste. Then it burned with something else, with the taste of Imhotep's tongue, brushing over his, twining and teasing as that full, enticing mouth covered his.

Strong fingers stroked his length, gathering the fluids leaked out in his arousal. Shame burned Ardeth again at the thought of this vilest of creatures, of that which he'd sworn to protect the world from, making him hot enough to be erect, to leak his seed. He shuddered and groaned when those fingers stroked his entrance again, smoothing the wetness over him. Imhotep rubbed hotly against him, stroking his own wetness onto Ardeth's body, pulling another low groan from him.

Heat covered him, penetrated him in two places and all through himself as Imhotep thrust home, breaching the guardian muscle roughly, stretching his body wide, forcing the thick length inside him. Imhotep's mouth plundered his, swallowing his cry of pain, outrage, and need.

He couldn't call it a kiss; nothing in his experience of kissing had ever prepared him for this ravishing of his mouth. It was beyond hot, beyond arousing; it ripped through him like a windstorm pulled apart hide shelters, burrowed into each corner of his being like an animal seeking shelter from the winds. Suddenly his arms and legs came free from their invisible restraints, no longer held apart, pinned to the ground. All he could do was twine them about the creature buried inside him, holding on tightly, holding him close, low cries and gasps rising from their joined mouths.

Then Imhotep moved inside him.

Hot, melting pleasure rushed over him, drowning him in its wake. The world ceased its spin, reversing itself on its axis, changing everything that had been neat and ordered. Pleasure/pain exploded through him, his body clamoring for more, his mind shrieking for surcease, both demanding at once. He was lost, lost, his soul gone from his grasp as he gave himself over, surrendered all that he was to the body covering him, to the thick length pulsing and moving inside him.

"_Mine_," the thick voice gritted out above him. Ardeth opened his eyes, shuddering at the arousal he saw smoldering in those dark, hot eyes.

"Never," he whispered hoarsely. "You take my body; you cannot have my soul." He shook under Imhotep's body, his legs aching from the unaccustomed spreading, the rest of him aching with arousal and abuse.

"I take all I want, warrior." The truth of that came in the rapid, rough thrusts that filled him, burned him, made him grit his teeth against crying out both in pleasure and in pain. He sucked in a breath, fingers clutching tightly to Imhotep's shoulders, his head tipping back in acknowledged submission. Imhotep's low growl of amusement ripped through him, followed hot and hard by teeth scraping roughly against his throat. He howled in pain and lust when the teeth bit hard into him, convulsed against the arms holding him fast when wet heat fastened over him as Imhotep sucked hard on the bite, marking him.

_Marking_ him. Ownership, of sorts.

Ardeth thrust upward against Imhotep, rubbing his length against the other man's belly, desperate to spend, to ease the ache in at least part of his body. Teeth bit again, scraping and nibbling, tasting every bit of his neck, moving up to his jaws. Imhotep licked his mouth, testing the corners, then thrust in savagely, harder and faster than he'd done yet. Ardeth met each thrust, rubbing himself viciously against the other's belly, his cock moving slickly through the juices spread there.

The heat rushing through him coalesced into an inferno, worthy of the desert sun at high-summer. Trickles of it bled into every part of him, scrambling his thoughts, forcing a scream from his throat. He arched hard, rubbing and shaking, spending himself against Imhotep's body with a sob of shame and desire.

The sharp laugh echoed through head; Imhotep's triumph over him. He shook again when the other man grasped him tightly, grinding their mouths together as the thick length inside him pulsed and throbbed rapidly, burning him as Imhotep spent inside him, taking him as he'd said, just like a maiden.

Ardeth sank back onto the sand, the heat beneath him just slightly hotter than the mortification stinging him. He struggled to catch his breath, to still the thundering in his chest. Imhotep shifted out of him, knelt above him, that now-familiar smirk pulling at his lips.

"You think you will win against me, warrior? You think that you can defeat me? I defeated your flesh as easily as a few caresses. You will not win in this; your quest is doomed."

Allah, but the creature couldn't be right. He _couldn't_. Ardeth had submitted his body, but not his soul. He belonged to himself, not to Imhotep. He was not defeated. Not yet. Not until his body lay rotting in the desert would he admit defeat, and never to this creature.

"We shall see, priest. You took my body, but that is all." He struggled out from under Imhotep, his body aching, his legs shaky, but working. "Your power here is fading now. I'm not yours any longer."

"You shall always be mine," the dark voice boomed. "Always."

Was the creature fading? The dark around them was fading, becoming light again with the glint of sunrise on the desert floor. Imhotep smirked once more, one eyebrow raising as if to challenge him.

"Remember, Med-jai. _Mine_."

Then he was gone.

Ardeth looked around him, taking in Neb and Shen still sleeping, and the undisturbed horses. All in his mind? He wasn't certain any longer. He was dressed in all the robes he'd gone to bed in, but his body ached and throbbed, his mouth felt swollen and sore. He drew the back of his hand across it; he could still taste Imhotep's mouth on his. His fingers touched on the stinging mark on his neck and remnants of desire and shame streaked through him, leaving him gasping.

Dream or no, _something_ had happened.

But he'd be damned before he'd allow it to happen again.

Whatever the cost, the creature known as Imhotep had to be stopped.

With that thought he stood, shaking the kinks and aches out of his legs. It would be a long day in the saddle, but it didn't matter. _He_ would triumph. The Med-jai would triumph. Not evil. Not while he lived and breathed.

~~Finis~~


End file.
